


Guilt

by jo19844_twfic



Series: 100 fic prompts [9]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jo19844_twfic/pseuds/jo19844_twfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack asks a lot of Ianto, sometimes even the impossible.<br/>for the prompt, guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt

Jack looked over the railings as Owen patched up Ianto's chest; it could have been worse, much worse, another inch lower and he would have been dead in an instant. Getting shot was always a risk of the job, but every time it happened to anyone but himself, Jack felt the guilt. He walked down the stairway slowly and leaned against the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets as he listened to Ianto groan with the pain.

 

“You really need to learn how to dodge a bullet,” Owen said, “you're going to be out of action for a few days and it's going to hurt like hell.”

 

“I think I'll cope.”

 

“It hurts when you got shot.” Owen looked directly at the Welshman as he patched him up and smiled a little. “I should know.”

 

“Are you ever going to let that one go?”

 

“No.”

 

“Not that you hold a grudge or anything.”

 

“How's it going?” Jack stood behind Owen's shoulder looking over at the half-dressed wound.

 

“Almost done.” Owen stepped aside for a moment. “If only he'd stop flinching,” he said pointedly.

 

“Yeah well it hurts and you've not exactly got a good beside manner,” Ianto complained.

 

“I'll finish up here, you can go.” Jack took the dressing from Owen's hand. “It's been a long day.”

 

“You don't have to tell me twice.” He took off his gloves and threw them into the yellow bin across the room. “It's just the dressing left to do.”

 

“I think I can manage that.”

 

Owen rushed up the stairs and out of sight towards the direction of his workstation as Jack placed the dressing over the hole in Ianto's chest. He worked at a leisurely pace, concentrating on the wound for a moment.

 

“I wish you would be more careful.” Jack finished up the dressing, and lay his hand across it, letting his fingers linger for a moment before stepping away. “This is a dangerous job.”

 

“I'll live.”

 

“Make sure you do.” He turned away and cleared away the off-cuts from the dressings, then switched off the strong spotlight, letting the room fall into a dim light. “I don't think I could live with myself if anything happened to you.”

 

“I choose to do this job,” Ianto said, jumping down from the table and fastening his shirt, “I enjoy the danger sometimes.”

 

“Would you do me a favour?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Jack walked over to him and put his hands on the Welshman's cheeks, pressing a kiss against his lips. “Try not to get yourself killed too young? I'm not ready to lose someone else.”

 

“You know I can't promise that.”

 

“At least promise me that you'll be careful?”

 

“I'll be careful.” He kissed the older man softly, wrapping his arm around his waist. “But you gave me a job to do and I have to do it.”

 

“Don't make me box up your life. I can't stand to file you away as another statistic. I'll do that with anyone but you.”

 

“Jack--”

 

“Don't make me mourn you.”

 

“Stop talking now.” Ianto kissed him softly, wrapping his good arm around Jack’s neck to pull him close. “No more talking tonight.”

 

“But--”

 

“No more talking,” Ianto said, whispering against his lips. “Use your lips for better things.”

 

“You’re wounded,” he reminded him. “Owen told you take it easy.”

“Then you’ll have to be extra careful with me tonight.”


End file.
